If I ever need a reminder of how perilous life is, I’ll just ride along a snow-and-ice-dabbled, heavily-trafficked, Pacific Northwest high desert road in January.
I weave in and out of the bike lane to avoid certain road rash. Most cars give me plenty of room, but every 30 or so, there’s an asshole that buzzes me. I feed on the yummy adrenaline.
Regardless, I gotta get my bike on. My endorphins on. My vitamin D on. My life on.
I’ve had some long-awaited wins this week, and I’ve made it a priority to give the universe thanks as often as I can.
Not the least of which, for surviving a paltry 18-mile ride this afternoon, and not ending with road rash.
Goddamn it feels good to be alive. Even better, to recognize the gift of life.